Flying Saucer Dream
I had a dream last night. Aliens had invaded and people were completely overwhelmed. Every time a treaty was going to be signed, there was a betrayal. The scenes I remember are as follows. I was in a large museum type of building. Lots of political officials had surrounded the president (He was sort of non-descript looking, and certainly did not look like the man in office today.) They were panicking in a sort of half-controlled manner, pleading with him to do one thing or another. The only choice that seemed clear to them was that the president should retreat to his underground bunker, which was accessed through the fake presidential oval office, which was in the theatre auditorium. Me and a handful of other tourists, naturally couldn't follow.
Just as he and his men and officials disappeared behind some stage props, the aliens marched into building from every side. They were menacing in their troop formations but they did not attack. Escape seemed impossible. Speaking in an incomprehensible manner, they pointed this way and that, before laughing and leaving behind a small white safe on a dolly. A smarter man among us, a professor of some kind, with his glasses askew on his face, realized it was a bomb. He lay over the bomb, frantically working at the combination before it exploded. Even though he died in the resulting explosion, his heroic act saved at least half of the people in the museum, including myself.
I rushed outside, only to see the havoc of flying saucers everywhere shooting laser beams at a panicking crowd. A police officer, helping to get people out of the back of a station wagon, was caught in the beam and turned into ash. I rushed around him into the street. And then I woke up.
Just as he and his men and officials disappeared behind some stage props, the aliens marched into building from every side. They were menacing in their troop formations but they did not attack. Escape seemed impossible. Speaking in an incomprehensible manner, they pointed this way and that, before laughing and leaving behind a small white safe on a dolly. A smarter man among us, a professor of some kind, with his glasses askew on his face, realized it was a bomb. He lay over the bomb, frantically working at the combination before it exploded. Even though he died in the resulting explosion, his heroic act saved at least half of the people in the museum, including myself.
I rushed outside, only to see the havoc of flying saucers everywhere shooting laser beams at a panicking crowd. A police officer, helping to get people out of the back of a station wagon, was caught in the beam and turned into ash. I rushed around him into the street. And then I woke up.
25 September 2014
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